


Glittering Lacrymosa

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: Vampire Hunter D
Genre: Death, F/M, Gen, Gore, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Racism, Sex, Trans Characters, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: Set some time after Twin Shadow Knight (wherein Twin is not killed), D and his Twin find themselves in the secluded town of Russo. They are expecting an easy job--werewolves are a known enemy--but things are not as cut and dry in backwards Russo. D and his Twin soon find themselves amidst the worst human kind has to offer, which makes it very hard for D to keep his Twin in check.The duo team up with a local man who just wants to do right by the unjustly persecuted people of his town but isn't sure where to start. Together they face unbridled rage, lust, racism and the undeniable realization that sometimes humans can be monsters too...





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a gen fic. There is a little shipping but it is certainly not an integral part of the story and is honestly mostly just there so that I had an excuse to write all kinds of sex. The sex can be completely skipped and nothing in the story will be lost.
> 
> This is my very first time writing for this fandom so please go easy on me...

The sand was easy on paws. It was far more yielding than cobblestone streets, and more firm than the wetlands. Tracks were more visible, of course, but no one was tracking him—and he’d be long gone before anyone thought to. They would also be tracking paws and those would stop around sunrise; nobody tracking a wolf would think to track a man next.

Though he wanted to open his mouth, let his tongue roll out, he kept his muzzle tightly closed. A mouthful of sand once had ruined the experience and he was not keen to repeat it. He looked like a monster on a mission and indeed he was.

Hatred had been bred into his family—and not just because of his lycanthropic roots. No, his family had passed down traditions of hate, bypassing all those perfectly acceptable reasons to hate your fellow man in favor of things people could not change; things that made them different and thus frightening. Combining fear with the diabolical power of the werewolf turned the entire family line into vicious, hate crime killers. Knowing their home town could not afford to lose their support and patronage, his family was never concerned that things would be investigated properly. They let their puppies dine on the blood of better men and called them inferior for flesh of a darker shade.

The beast stopped as he neared the village. It looked like a shanty town, like the run-down and infested alleys of his own city, filled to the brim with the less fortunate. He could smell them and to his perfect nose it smelled like a disease that needed eradicating. Lips pulled back and stained teeth met the moonlight.

There are many words to describe atrocities, but none worthwhile to detail such meaningless slaughter. Suffice it to say the village did not stand a chance. They were not prepared for such hostile actions and certainly not from a beast standing nearly elven feet tall and weighing more than half their camels combined. His intention was to leave no survivors and he very nearly succeeded. He soon felt there were no more throats to be ripped and no more blood to be spilled. He took a trophy of exotic golds and spices and returned home. He would celebrate a victory with his family while believing no-one would mourn the lives lost.

The night is host to many things and not all of them monsters who do monstrous things. There are monsters who do wondrous things. Such as the creature who seemed to float above the sand and decay near the early morning following the attack. Eyes that missed nothing took in everything and parched lips thanked a long lost relative for the bounty laid before them. Some monsters will take lives when they have no need to, and others will never raise a hand in spite surviving on death. 

The vampire stalled at a large tent. Her ears began to ring and her chest thundered with the panicked, dwindling beating of a fighter’s heart. Her eyes lingered on the bodies presented but death was all she saw. The beating grew faint and the vampire felt a panic start in her own chest. 

‘There,’ her instincts seemed to instruct, ‘so small, so strong.’ The vampire knelt next to a dead woman, throat ripped open and belly ripe as a watermelon. A ripple across dark skin fluttered in time with the stalling heart. ‘Dead is dead,’ instincts again provided, soothing the guilt of what was to be a gruesome task.

Moments later the vampire held aloft the dark child, lit from behind like an idol drenched in blood and tied by precious cord to death. The stillness of the sandy village was underscored by the sudden wailing of a newborn.

“Chikar,” strength, in some almost forgotten tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere else, somewhere far away, sometime long after, a huff of breath from a horse that is almost more machine than beast slipped through slitted nostrils and mingled with the early dusk fog. The creature tossed its head in agitation, hooves still too biological to trust the swamp before it. A slender, long-fingered hand stretched out to pat the creature’s quivering shoulder.

“If only you cared as much about me as you do about your damned horse, D,” the voice was muffled against dusty fur.

“That’s going to be very hard. The horses are far easier on the eyes,” the second rider in the small caravan of two answered in a lilting tone.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” groaned the voice, tongue nearly caught up in the reins. 

“Tk, tk,” Urged the lead rider confidently, shifting in the saddle and coercing the beast slowly forward.

“Are you sure? You did call my name, after all,” the rear rider, once more.

“Damnit not this again. We need to give you another name.”

“I already have a name. A perfectly good name.”

“A name that’s already in use! Chose another!”

The vampire hunter known as D ignored the conversation, scanning the upcoming debris in the swamp. It would be easy to ambush the party. He did not admonish his companions for their conversations but he did not make any indication he would be joining them.

“That really just seems like far too much hassle. Plus, I’ve lived with this name my whole life,” the second rider, identical to D in just about every way, grinned wide. His expressions and tone of voice were decidedly unlike his twin brother, but upon a glance it would take a very careful eye to find them separate entities.

“It doesn’t have to be hard,” came the voice from the first D’s hand once more, “pick another letter. There are at least twenty others to chose from.”

“At least!” The twin laughed. Ignoring him, the hand continued.

“You could be H, or T or L. Or you could combine letters. You could be DB or DT or—“

“FU!” The twin shrieked helpfully.

“Why you—Arrrrrrgh!” The parasite’s voice was garbled around the reins in its mouth as D pulled his horse to a stop. The parasite wrestled his tongue against the leather shoved between his lips unceremoniously, grunting and chomping.

“Why’d you stop?” The twin asked, voice lower and serious. 

D simply lifted his right hand, turning his head slightly in each direction. He strained his ears to listen. He thought he’d heard a noise—the sucking pop of something heavy pulling free of thick mud—but now it was all silence. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he lowered his hand. His steed pinned back flesh and blood ears in agitation.

D’s twin urged his mount forward with a heavy sigh. Though he could not say he really enjoyed talking with the parasite at the very least it was conversation. A year on the road with his brother and conversation was still rare, and did not last long even when it did happen. It was almost as if D entertained himself by trying to say as little as possible to convey any kind of idea. It was irritating.

“Where are we headed again?” The twin pressed, kneeing his mount in mechanical ribs to slide up beside the other dhampir.

“Russo,” D’s voice was quick and sharp like the clop of a horse’s hooves on stone. 

“And… we have to pass through this delightful pit because?” The twin watched as D slowly slid his eyes—and just his eyes—to glance sidelong at him. The twin knew his brother was sizing him up, trying to figure out why all the questions. The twin lifted his eyebrows hopefully, his own hat resting a slight further back on his head than D’s.

“Russo is on the other side,” D provided, returning his eyes to the path ahead. He heard his twin groan, hands tossed into the air in an exaggerated example of exasperation. 

“What’s so important about this place? It’s not even on this year’s maps, brother. There is nothing there worth mentioning; I’ll bet even the people who live there wished they didn’t.”

D hoisted himself up out of the saddle as his mount’s legs shook, struggling to pull itself from the muck. As one hoof popped free D could hear the echo interrupted by the slide of metal against stone, faint in the distance.

“I was going to say you wouldn’t even want to live there, but then maybe you would. You’d be so far removed from everything that no one would ever be able to find you. You’d be left alone for the rest of your days. Sounds like the kind of thing you’d enjoy—if you weren’t so hard for all this monster killing you do.”

The twin watched as D lifted his right hand once more, pulling his mount to a stop. Following suit, the twin tilted his head and tried to listen to the landscape. At first all he could hear was the bubbling of nearby muck, the dripping of something wet, and then a sharp noise—a noise decidedly not made by anything natural in the swamp. 

“What’s going on? Why aren’t we movi-gndhbbfffttt,” D gripped his reins tightly, stuffing the leather once more into the mouth on the palm of his hand. He felt the angry parasite subside into where-ever it was that he went when he was not present. 

D could hear the leather moan just barely from beside him. His twin was preparing to reach for his blade, and D knew he should have done the same. Both dhampir quickly turned their heads as a loud scrambling sound alerted them that their stalker was quickly ascending a large boulder to their left.

The bulbous green creature let out something like a belch as it peaked the boulder. It stood on stubby too-short legs, stump-like with fan shaped feet. Its arms were double long, reaching down so that the knuckles dragged against the ground. Long fingers ended in sharp claws; the source of the noise which had alerted the dhampir twins. The creature sized them up with glassy, beady eyes. It made another belch-like war cry and leapt off the boulder.

D was almost surprised that the creature was so recklessly hostile. It certainly appeared to be a type of goblin, and while they were not known for their intelligence and battle strategy, they were certainly not mindless animals. The dhampir simply ducked and the creature sailed over his head. 

The twin had drawn his blade in the blink of an eye; not as keen as the other hunter to let the transgression go. A flick of his wrist and twin D carved a long, jagged line across the goblin’s gut. 

Thrown off its trajectory the goblin hit the earth and tumbled. It let out distressed gurgling sounds as it stood and touched the gash across its belly. Beady eyes bulged from its face and it made a sound much more like a roar at the twin.

D watched impassively as the goblin attempted to scramble up the rear of his twin’s mount. His twin let out a bark-like laugh and watched as his mount kicked the creature high in the chest. Both dhampir felt, admittedly, almost a pang of sympathy as the goblin rolled head over feet, gasping and gurgling.

D lifted his eyebrows—his twin began laughing—as the goblin stood up and continued to stare at the twins in defiance. D heard his twin’s sword whip through the air as the other hunter gestured with it.

“You have to give him credit—he’s a tough little thing!”

Both horses snorted and stomped their disapproval as the creature began hobbling towards them once more. The gurgles continued though they now began to sound like growling. The goblin’s nostrils were wide, lips drawn back in a grimace. The kick was very likely enough to do the goblin in with enough time. 

D patted his horse’s neck once more and urged it forward; it was eager to obey. The goblin had put him on alert but it was clearly no great threat. Behind him D heard his brother’s mount turn in the opposite direction and take a few cautious steps. The goblin let out another roar which fell silent along the whistle of the twin’s blade. D heard the wet splatter of the body of the goblin crumpling into the mud and muck, spilling internal contents.

The twin moved his mount into a faster pace to catch up with D. He held the goblin’s head, skewered on the end of his sword, out in front like a lance. Ugly eyes still bulged and the tongue lolled from side to side with each bounce of the horse. The twin heard his brother make a small noise of disapproval.

“What? It’s going to serve as a warning. I’d rather not have to stop every fifteen minutes to deal with another one. This way they’ll see we mean business long before they impede our progress.” The twin could see a small twitch in his brother’s lip which signified D thought there was some merit to the idea. 

“It smells,” complained Lefty.

“So do you, but you don’t hear me complaining. Somebody taught me manners.” The twin placed a hand over his chest and tipped his head back.

“Hah!” Lefty snorted.

“What exactly is in Russo, D?” The twin pressed again.

“A job.”

The twin growled in frustration and swung the goblin head around in front of him. He flung it over his shoulder, letting the weapon extend behind him for a moment before sliding it back into its sheath. 

The head hit the ground, bouncing slightly in the muck. As the two dhampir continued towards Russo the goblin’s eyes blinked slowly. Its long tongue flapped for a moment before returning to its mouth.

“Russo,” it garbled in common, exposed neck muscles squeezing and oozing in the process. The eyes slowly closed as mud rose up to pull the head down.


	3. Chapter 3

Dusk seemed the perfect backdrop for the group arriving in Russo. The town was much larger than the twin had expected, but eerily quiet as the sun began to set. A few large farms dotted the land on either side of the worn path towards the town proper. A few odd animals lifted their heads to watch the group pass, ears perked and eyes wide. Animals could smell things humans could not immediately ascertain. Usually, however, it was Lefty they were uneasy about.

“So who’s our contact?” Twin asked, moving to ride very close to D to keep their conversation from eavesdropping ears.

“Hmm?” D shifted in his saddle as the brim of his twin’s hat caught his.

“Our contact? Who’s got the job for us? Who are we meeting?” The twin leaned in, trying to find his brother’s eyes under the shade of leather and a sweeping of brown curls.

“No one,” D supplied easily, turning his head to fully look at his twin. The other hunter sat up straight as if struck. Twin’s face echoed his surprise, eyes wide and mouth agape. D ran his tongue along the pointed canines in his own mouth as he watched dwindling light catch his twin’s.

“You mean we traveled all the way out here without an actual contact? Are you just hoping they have need of us?”

“I know they do.” 

“And how exactly do you know they need hunters when you haven’t spoken to any of them? Hmm?”

“I listen,” D almost smirked, a twitch in the corner of his mouth. “A few taverns back I overheard two men talking. Russo is plagued by werewolves.”

“When were you planning on sharing this information?”

“When you asked,” D did smirk this time, very faintly.

The twin grinned in response, cheeks almost sore from the size of it. He let his mount fall just a little behind D’s as they moved onto cobblestone streets. The few humans still out and about gave them strange looks. They were clearly not used to—or prepared for—visitors, let alone visitors dressed like the hunters. The twin watched people turn and whisper to one another while scurrying away like so many rats. He could appreciate—and even enjoy the company of—a person, but people in general rubbed him backwards. 

D led the group through winding streets like he knew them. The crowds thinned out as the group traveled, more people seeking shelter as night fell in earnest. As was his way D did not reveal where the group was headed until a large tavern came into view. The hunter did let out a small noise of disappointment upon realizing there was no attached stable. 

D pulled his horse to a stop, ignoring the two old men staring at him. His twin sized the men up, wondering if they were staring because two strangers had arrived or because they’d arrived riding horses. He slipped from his saddle and watched as D seemed to fret for a second about what to do with them.

“Hey, you, grandpa,” the twin beckoned, pulling his reins over his horse’s head and pointing to the two old men. D turned to look at him sharply. 

“Three gold for both of you if you find us lodgings for our horses,” the twin reached into a pouch on his belt and held out six coins. They looked exceptionally bright against his pale skin.

D frowned and watched as the two men turned to look at one another. The hunter could smell alcohol on them, see sleep in their movements and the glaze in their eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure he trusted them to find lodgings for themselves let alone two horses. He tensed, eyes on his brother as the men stood.

“Sure,” answered the taller of the two, “’s not like we’re doin’ anythin’.”

The twin smiled as he and his brother handed over the reins of their horses. D turned to remove a few important saddle bags but there was nothing of any real importance on the twin’s horse. As the men took the reins one of them reached for the coins still being offered. The twin quickly snapped his hand into a fist and pulled it away.

“Ah, ah,” he said, wagging a finger, “lodging first, coins second. You’ll have to make it back here and tell us where you’ve stashed our horses to earn your coin.”

D lifted a brow as the men grumbled in agreement with only a few less savory words. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his twin as the horses were led away. They appeared like two halves of a mirror, if it were not for the sly grin plastered on the twin’s face.

“See? I can be nice to the locals.”

“I am not sure I would call that nice.” 

D led them both into the tavern and, as he was expecting, all talking and movement stopped as they crossed the threshold. There was something altogether dirty about the sensation of all eyes in a room upon them. D took it like he took his guilt—straight and without a chaser—but his twin sneered before offering a keen smile to anyone looking close enough—a dark, bitter drink followed by honey. 

“We’re not looking for trouble,” The barkeeper said calmly as D and his twin approached the bar. Moving and talking resumed slowly behind them, decidedly less jovial but not completely suspicious.

“We are,” the twin said pleasantly, taking a seat on a bar stool. D preferred to stand, and sighed heavily as the man looked startled at the twin’s response.

“We’re hunters,” D clarified. The still and silence settled over the tavern once more and D felt Lefty stir impatiently. 

“What do a couple of hunters want with Russo?” 

The voice belonged to a man in charge; and it was obvious from just tone alone. He was making a statement with his question rather than seeking an answer. It was likely he knew exactly why the hunters were there but wanted them to know under no uncertain terms that they were not wanted. Indeed it sounded as if their presence was an insult to the good people of Russo, of which this man fancied himself. D turned to face the man, though he took great care to make it look conversational and not threatening.

“We heard you have a bit of a werewolf problem,” the twin answered before D could speak. He spun on the bar stool, legs crossed and a wide grin on his face. Whether he picked up on the tone and was ignoring it, or was ignorant to the ways of people was unclear. D gave a nearly imperceptible wave of his fingers—not unlike a signal to halt—and the twin’s smile faded slightly.

“I’m not sure where you got your information, but it’s wrong. We don’t have a problem, and we certainly don’t have werewolves,” this time the man was pressing for information, this statement was more a question than his question had been. His tone was flat but curved and thick. He wanted to know what the hunters knew, he wanted to know who had been talking, he wanted to know just how much trouble he was going to be in—presumably with someone higher ranked than himself.

D could feel his twin bristling beside him and had to admit even his tolerance was fading. He brushed his long cloak aside and made to reach slowly into his pocket. D could feel the men in the tavern—as there were quite obviously no women, it had been apparent instantly, even the staff were all male—switching to high alert. He knew fingers would be itching for guns or the handles of more finesse weapons like his own. He carefully reached into a pouch much too small to hold any weapon and the tavern relaxed slightly.

Rather unceremoniously D flung an object towards the man who’d spoken up. It caused a bit of a stir initially, but nothing compared to the mad scrambling of men seated at the table where it landed. The severed black hand flopped palm up against a large stein and seemed to wave at the gathered men, exposed bone quite apparently gnawed upon. Chairs were over-turned and men began to curse and cover their mouths as they lurched away. The man who had spoken narrowed his eyes and stared at D.

“My mistake then,” D met the man’s eyes with his own and he could feel the other’s confidence waiver slightly. His twin began to laugh almost like royalty, soft and quiet and hidden behind his hand as if trying to politely mock the mortals. 

“There’s no need to be rude, gentlemen,” a new voice joined the gathering from a booth in the back. A tall man who was as decorated as he was smug stepped towards the now empty table. He glanced down at the hand, various necklaces clinking against each other musically. He pulled a cloth from his pants pocket and gently retrieved the hand. The crowd moved to permit him passage to D.

“I appreciate a man who can make such an impact without resorting to violence,” The well-dressed man smiled, offering the hand back to D. His top-most coat was a dark purple lined with ivory stitching. This was a man who had money, if not favor and notoriety. He frowned down at the severed hand, his own decorated with wild and ornate rings.

“As it so happens I know to whom this hand belongs and, having seen the body first hand, I would not be surprised to find it was werewolves responsible for the slaughter.” 

The twin narrowed his eyes slightly as D took the severed hand from the human. The man had a lilting voice and long, downswept eyelashes. He made eye contact that lingered for just a second too long and smiled just a little too softly. The twin recognized the signals and though he knew his brother was no stranger to them, the twin did not appreciate it. He felt over-looked and ignored.

“If you two would be so inclined, I have a few spare rooms and would be more than willing to put you up for the night—or the duration of your stay. I doubt you’ll find these rooms up to your obvious standards, no offense Hector, but you know your rooms are intended for drunken men sleeping off your spirits.”

D tilted his head to watch the barkeeper give a slow nod. The man was only slightly offended but still tense and trying to avoid any destruction of property. The rest of the tavern seemed to be torn between wanting to watch the rest of the conversation play out, wanting to start a fight, and wanting to get back to their drinks. The man who had spoken out originally scoffed and quickly waved over a young boy with a rag to clean the table. D returned his attention to the gaudy young man.

“Would you be more interested if I told you I was the son of the town mortician? Staying with us you’d have access to the bodies during their preparation, so that you could continue your investigation at your leisure,” the offer was this time followed by a soft sort of bow.

“All right,” D accepted, ignoring the huff from his twin. The dhampir caught a slight blush to the young man’s cheeks as he stood and smiled.

“Wonderful!”

“What about our horses?” The twin asked with a pout, sliding off the bar stool. “I told those two old men to meet us here.”

“I can have someone fetch them,” The mortician’s son addressed the twin with the same flirtatious smile. “It’s been a while since we’ve kept horses at the home but I am sure we can make them comfortable.”

This did not seem to please twin, but D thanked him silently as he nodded an agreement. D did not want any more trouble and was already upset with how they had begun their trip to Russo. He had a suspicion things would not go smoothly, but picking fights with known men in the tavern on their first night was a low start. The youth seemed amiable enough—and genuine, which was more rare—D could not quite understand his brother’s hold-up.

D’s twin fell into step behind the mortician’s son and his brother. He heard a soft curse whispered behind them and turned. He smiled wide at the table still eying the hunters in anger and brought his hand to his mouth. He kissed the tips of his fingers and blew it in the direction of the flabbergasted men. He felt his spirits rise slightly as they sneered and shifted in their seats.

“You two certainly know how to make an entrance,” their host said with a small shake of his head, short red curls bouncing. “I suppose when I said I wanted the best I should have known you’d be…” he paused to look the dhampir over curiously, “something like this.” He chuckled to show he meant no offense.

“You’ve been spreading the information?” The twin pressed, now a bit more interested. The trio started down one of the long, winding roads.

“Yes, but I’d prefer to talk more on that once we’re safely inside four walls. There are a lot of ears in Russo and not a lot of strangers.”

“Understood,” D said complacently.

“I am Julien, and like I said my father is Russo’s mortician.” 

“We are D,” D answered flatly. He met Julien’s eyes as the young man turned and gave him a strange look. The look was extended to the twin, who smiled and nodded.

“All right… I heard you hunters were a secretive lot, and really who am I to judge?” 

Julien led the group towards a very sizeable mansion in a large corner of the town’s obvious Rich District. The Ds could not help but take note of how much the home looked like it belonged to Vampiric Nobility. The structure was gothic in design with sweeping, pointed roofing and long windows. It seemed altogether extravagant for a house that made their money preparing the dead.

“I suppose business is good?” The twin pressed playfully, giving Julien a look which clearly stated the twin was not buying it.

“Like you would not believe,” Julien purred. “I’ll explain once we’re inside—it’s gossip for sure and I don’t want to confirm or deny any rumors eavesdroppers may or may not be spreading as we speak.”

As they approached the front door, both hunters became aware of a rather busy home. It hadn’t occurred to them that such a large estate would need a small staff to keep it clean and working. Upon getting closer to the house they began picking up on movement behind the walls, even some in the gardens around them, quick flashes of cleaning women in the windows. D turned his head as his twin motioned for his attention. The more out-going hunter waggled his eyebrows and made as if to whistle, though no noise was made. D nodded just slightly. There was more here than it appeared upon first glance—certainly no regular mortician could bring in such wealth. Both hunters would be on alert until they were quite certain it was safe.

The front doors were opened just seconds before the group reached them. A tall and rather imposing dark man stood in the threshold, though his expression outed him as a kind fellow. He nodded and gave a small bow to Julien and did not seem in the slightest to be put out by the two guests trailing behind him.

“Good evening, Master Julien. I see your trip to the tavern was fruitful,” the doorsman’s tone was immediately informal and joking. His posture did not alter from that of a true professional—not quite an indentured man—but his relationship with Julien was soft and familiar. 

“Fruitful,” the twin pouted again, quietly and for no one but D to hear.

“I hope so,” Julien responded, patting the doorman on the arm as they passed. “It’s about time we got a little lucky.”

D stepped into the house with his twin a few steps behind him. The doorman offered them a genuine smile and D was again taken aback but the soft nature of the man. This was not a man who was reduced to housework but a fellow who clearly enjoyed what he did and that spoke more of his employers than of him. Julien and his father clearly respected this man as more than just a thing to be used. It was refreshing. D was tired of seeing the humanity he tried to protect do worse things to each other than the Vampiric Nobility and the Unallied Masses.

The twin took stock of the men and women working around the house. They were all far more jovial than he would have expected them to be. Most of them were dark-skinned but there were fairer toned children running about. It seemed for the most part like some strange extended family, and all of them smiled politely at the group. The expressions did not seem fake and in some cases the twin could have sworn they even looked relieved and hopeful.

“I’ll show you to the room so you can unpack a little. I’ll find someone to go gather your horses and prep the stables and then we can talk,” Julien explained, leading the hunters up a long set of stairs. He indicated a room to the left and the right atop the stairs, the first rooms in a long hallway of rooms.

“These are both currently unoccupied. I promise you will not be disturbed during your stay, provided you don’t start the disturbance.” Julien grinned, turning to face both Ds. He let his gaze linger on both of them for a split second, inferring that he knew they were both quite capable of causing trouble. His eyes caught on the twin’s as the dhampir tilted his head to one side. Julien’s eyes seemed to get stuck in long brown hair like a fly in honey. He shook his head and clapped his hands together as if to break the trance.

“Make yourselves comfortable! I’ll be up for you in just a few moments.”

“Thank you,” D answered curtly before turning to take the room on the left. As Julien descended the stairs the twin turned and moved up behind his brother.

“This whole thing is very strange,” the twin hissed, a hint of amusement in his voice. He followed his brother into the room—it did not disappoint. They were not usually offered such luxury—in fact D preferred to stay outside to most inns and taverns, the twin had to struggle to break him of the habit—and the twin felt a small twinge of excitement at being able to indulge nearly guilt-free for a night or two.

“I have seen stranger.”

“I bet you have,” The twin permitted himself to sit on the foot of the bed before laying down. D moved towards the night table and carefully removed his cloak. The twin removed his hat and covered his face with it momentarily, listening as D began unburdening himself with most of his weapons and travel gear. Twin pulled the hat off and sat up.

“You know, you don’t have to keep secrets from me.”

“I’m not.” 

“Really? You’re sure acting like you are. You said there wasn’t anyone expecting us. You also didn’t tell me you had a severed hand in your bags.”

“I was not sure if there was anyone waiting for us. I did not have any specifics. The hand was not a secret either, it was just not important that you know. Had you asked, I would have told you,” D paused before removing his hat as well. He ran his thumb over the brim lovingly.

“You’re stubborn as an ass, you know?” The twin growled. He too stripped himself of his traveling gear, laying it in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. He watched as D looked to the gear and then met his gaze. The twin shrugged.

“You and I both know it’s safer if we’re together. I don’t care how much this Julien parades around our safety while we’re here: I still don’t trust it. I would feel much safer if we were together.”

“That’s fair,” D said with a nod, eyes turning to do a sweep of the room.

“Why do you think they employ exclusively dark skinned people? It’s odd, right?”

“It is. I believe we will find out,” D ran his fingers along the edge of a smooth chest of drawers. He seemed to enjoy the smooth texture. “I believe Julien is helping them in the best way he knows how.”

“Helping them?”

“Old customs indicate that darker skinned people were once very unfairly judged by the color of their skin. As most of the world is in decay and chaos, that has mostly been eradicated but not in all places. Luckily—or unluckily—there are now bigger things to worry about,” D turned to look at his twin, “there were no dark-skinned men in the tavern.”

“Hmm, I hadn’t noticed,” Twin stretched his arms over his head. “I did notice the lack of women.”

“Also telling.”

“How so?” 

“Men who are afraid of that which is different are easy to scare. They have to maintain a very firm grip on power lest their insecurities rise to the surface. If these are the type of people to hate other humans simply because of the color of their skin, than it is very likely they harbor other irrational hatreds—and women are usually at the brunt of that.”

“Fascinating. You really do spend a lot of time with them, don’t you?”

“No. I just watch; and I listen.” 

“Why are you so intent on protecting them from the Vampiric Nobility when it seems they need more protection from themselves? What makes them so… worthy?” The twin laughed a little, though his words were from a deep place. He did not hate humanity—quite far from it—but they were a strange kind to him. They gave little things such importance and he did not understand. They were very tightly wrung and tense and seemed to find little joy in anything.

“Because they have short, fleeting lives, and will do more in their eighty or so years than many of the Vampiric Nobility will do in centuries. When a vampire is taken with a hobby they can easily put aside study or improvement when they are all but assured tomorrow but humans… do not have that assurance. When a human is taken with an idea they will near starve themselves in a passion to see a task completed.” D paused in front of a mirror, admiring the clean surface. “Knowing that one has a limited amount of time makes one strive to make the biggest impact.”

“Why are you always so dark and dramatic?” 

D turned to look at his twin, almost offended, to find the other dhampir opening and closing various drawers. They were all empty and this seemed to upset him. Both hunters turned as a knock sounded at the door.

“It’s only me,” Julien said as he entered without waiting for permission. “Oh,” he glanced from one hunter to the other, “good. Now I don’t have to go fetch you both.” The hunters felt a little put-out that he seemed so familiar with them already but at the very least it was his house and they were his guests—they had little right to be upset that he was comfortable here.

“So, where to begin…” Julien started, leaning against the chest of drawers, back to the mirror D had been admiring moments before.

“You started rumors of werewolves in Russo.”

“Oh, oh they aren’t rumors—it’s the damned truth—but yes. Yes I did. Growing up in Russo one sort of accepts things as commonplace and as ‘just the way things are’ but with any kind of education, heart and a conscious that doesn’t hold up when you start questioning it. Most towns don’t act like this; most towns don’t treat citizens like animals; most towns don’t need to pay their morticians to keep things secret, to stop certain news from making the rounds.”

“What kind of news?” Twin purred, seated on the bed with his legs crossed at the knees. He seemed entirely interested now. D nodded in agreement with the question from across the room.

“Mostly it’s time of death and cause of death. We don’t have a… police force here, so to speak, no sheriff or other kinds of law men. It’s mostly up to who has the most money and the most sway. So when a dead body is found, it’s pretty much brought directly to us for more information. With a lot of the bodies we can expect a message within the hour. Usually it’s along the lines of ‘this body has been rotting for a lot longer than it seems, and here’s the proof’ with a hefty sum of gold, or ‘I know what this looks like, but this gold says natural causes’. Things of that nature. My father never seemed bothered by it, but once I noticed patterns it began to concern me greatly. It was even more concerning that these things were quite apparent but no one talks about them, no one brings them up, they aren’t even viewed as tragedies. It’s as if… animals were dying or being found torn up.” Julien seemed distressed and a little frantic at the end of his speech. He shook his head and ran a hand through it. 

“It didn’t take me long to find there was, in fact, a large group of people who were upset by these bribes—and they were exactly the kind of people who often wound up on our exam and prep tables. It doesn’t take an idiot to see what’s going on—but it does take an idiot to try and change things. I’m going to cost my father his fortune and upset everything here if I don’t watch myself,” Julien finished with a soft wink.

“So you started… sending word? Traveling?” The twin pressed, more engrossed than he wanted to admit.

“A little of everything. I did some travel but, as you obviously know, we’re pretty far removed from most places. Travel takes a lot of planning for us and so I don’t do it very often. I’m gone far too long and I cannot stand the boredom of being on the road for days at a time. I would send word when I could—vague messages—I also have a few friends scattered about and pay them to talk loudly in crowded taverns.” Julien chuckled.

“All in the hopes worthwhile hunters would investigate?” D seemed a little incredulous.

“Well it worked, didn’t it? And, if it’s not too forward, you two look like you know your way around the business. I’d say I got damned lucky,” Julien smiled widely, looking slowly from one hunter to the other. 

“What else can you tell us?” D watched his twin size Julien up curiously.

“Only that if it isn’t werewolves that I’ll eat my smoking jacket. These bodies are ripped apart and not for sustenance. These wounds are passionate, deep and done for sport. They want the target dead and disfigured, and aren’t really concerned with being careful or making it look like something killed these people for food. I’ve heard there are still bears in some parts of the world, but they aren’t here, and that’s about the only animal I’ve ever heard of who might come close enough to being able to deal this kind of damage.” Julien paused and sighed, jingling through his jewelry. “Which means many—if not all—the movers and shakers in Russo are infected. I’m not sure if it’s just bigotry and a shared interest that’s making these men and women targets or if there is some over-arching, horrific racial purification plot at work. I just want it to stop. I don’t think we can realistically pack up and move all these people—not to mention anyone who may support us once they see the truth—so we have to make due with where we are. I have money, sure, a fuck ton of it, but so do the people responsible. They have to. Not even I could spend so much money to hide my dirty laundry.”

The trio fell silent for a few moments, all lost in thought. Julien tried not to stare at his house guests but now, in proper lighting, he found that a very hard task indeed. They were both tall, slender but still imposing men. They had thin eyes with heavy lids, lips that seemed in a continuous pout and fine pale skin. They both wore their hair very, very long and Julien wondered what it might feel like to touch it. They were identical in just about every way, even down to the small details in their outfits. He was curious what that granted them in combat—or even in just their day-to-day lives. It seemed to him like a great hassle to be constantly mistaken for one’s own twin… they even shared a title!

“Do you… would you like to see the bodies?” Julien offered after a long moment. The hunter seated on the bed perked a little.

“No,” D answered from his corner, “there is no need.”

“Are you sure?” Pressed the twin, seeming to deflate a little.

“There is not anything of worth the bodies can tell us. Werewolves are fairly simple—we know roughly who they will strike at and when—now we plan and set a trap.”

“Ha! Traps!” Julien laughed, his face turning red from the outburst. “I don’t—I mean I’m not trying to suggest you cannot trap these wolves—quite the contrary. I am just so looking forward to seeing the faces on these rich bigots when you trap them and out them for what they are—“

“Lycanthropes?”

“Assholes!”


	4. NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter can be skipped and the story can be continued in the next chapter if the reader so desires. The chapter below is essentially just sex. :)

  
D stood quietly at the window, slender eyes watching the sun rise acutely, like scanning the horizon for a long lost lover. He struck a lithe outline against the light, coat discarded and body clothed only in tight leathers. His hair cloaked the back of his neck, smooth somehow in spite being finally free of his signature hat. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back as he heard a very loud, very pointed sigh behind him.  
  
"Are you ever coming to bed?" Growled Twin, hoisting his hands up and then letting them drop noisily onto the duvet cover in his lap. He was much further into a state of undress than his twin--nude in fact--and seated almost eagerly within the confines of the large bed. With his legs crossed under him he leaned forward until his elbows were past his shins in a gratuitous display of flexibility. His hair fluttered free of his shoulders as he cupped his own chin in his palms.  
  
"There's no rush," D responded nonchalantly even as he turned around. His Twin grinned widely at him from his folded position on the bed.  
  
"Shall I entice you to retire?" Twin purred, wiggling his bottom against the clean and freshly pressed sheets. It was such a welcome change from their camping gear and the bright, humid outside air. Twin would never understand his brother's need to punish himself every day--and imagined if D were to partake in the good things more often, he might be of better spirits.  
  
D did not respond. He moved to sit on a small chair near the bed and bent over to begin removing his boots. Still bent at the waist he looked up as he heard his brother flop noisily onto his back.  
  
"D! You're killing me," Twin paused and covered his face with his hands as he giggled into them, "and I'm already dead!"  
  
"You're not dead," D responded before returning his attention to his boots, "we've been through this."  
  
"Well obviously I'm not dead. If I were dead you'd be much nicer to me," Twin pouted, pushing himself up into a seated position once more, bottom lip jutting forward.  
  
"I am nice to you," D removed a boot.  
  
"Pah, you tolerate me," Twin waved a hand dismissively, "you're much nicer to these humans."  
  
"Should I treat you like I treat them, then?" D proposed, pausing with one boot still on. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Should I make sure to distance myself from you? Shall I ensure you are never within proximity to be hurt? Would you prefer I slow my speed, burden my movements and downplay my vocabulary?"  
  
Twin sneered and tossed aside the blankets. He slipped out of the bed and padded barefoot to stand in front of his brother. Twin placed his hands firmly on his hips as D leaned back slightly.  
  
"You know what I mean," Twin growled, "and that is exactly what I'm talking about."  
  
"I treat you kindly," D confessed sincerely, "my affection is not as extravagant as yours."  
  
"Affection," Twin smiled, dropping his arms to his sides.  
  
"I do love you," D professed, quietly and almost monotone as was his way. It earned him an almost squeal from his twin, a noise which settled somewhere near a chirp. The hunter stiffened slightly as his twin's expression turned devious and the nude dhampir slowly knelt before D. The latter's lips parted just slightly as Twin's hands slid up his calves and began removing his boot. D's eyelids closed half-way as Twin leaned forward and pressed a few open-mouthed kisses to the clothed inside of his thigh.  
  
Twin's heavy eyelashes parted to let him glance up at his brother seductively, deft fingers removing the final boot: it was tossed uselessly aside. Twin shifted forward to kneel directly between his brother's legs, and caressed both hands up D's shins, cupping the backs of his knees to rest with his palms pressing to the inside of D's thighs. Twin dipped his head forward and kissed chastely at D's lower stomach, reveling in the slight twitch of D's body with each display. He drew his hands inward slowly and began rubbing his thumb's against D's crotch, tilting his head up to look directly into D's eyes.      
  
D let himself respond quickly to Twin's ministrations, thighs parting further in acceptance as he relaxed into the attention. It was subtle but he knew Twin would pick up on it; D rarely ever relaxed. The dhampir reached out and tenderly stroked his thumb along Twin's cheek, slipping his fingers back into long, familiar brown hair. He matched the intensity in Twin's eyes and didn't dare break the stare as he felt fingers working at his zipper, slipping into his pants and groping his erection in greed. His resolve faltered and his eyelids fluttered shut as the fist around his hardening cock tightened.  
  
Twin managed to keep back a laugh and a smart ass comment as D's head fell back, making a soft thud as it hit the wall behind the chair. He continued to fist messily at D's cock while he tugged, pulled and adjusted the opening of tight leather pants to give him more room to work. Twin rolled his head into the hand in his hair lasciviously, dropping his left hand to his own hard cock while he gave D's a few quick pumps with his right. He spared one last, heady glance at his brother before dropping his head and twisting a kiss to the tip of D's cock. Twin felt the fingers in his hair tighten and shudder.  
  
D squeezed his eyes shut tightly, mouth agape, as Twin took the full length of his cock into a moist mouth. In one swoop Twin had taken in all D had to offer and that was no small feat. D could feel Twin's nose against his pubic bone, the tight clasp of Twin's throat bobbed against the head of his cock. It unwound the hunter enough to let a moan slip through a usually stoic facade. D covered his face with his left hand as Twin slowly stuck his tongue out--D's cock still firmly deepthroated--and let it lick near the dhampir's balls. D moaned again as Twin rotated his head just slightly to run his tongue over as much as he could.  
  
Twin felt his throat tighten slightly--almost triggering his gag reflex--and he slowly, wetly pulled back from D's cock. He pulled his head back until he was almost free of the erection and then very slowly swallowed it back down. He paused only a second with his mouth completely occupied before settling into a moderate bob along D's cock, sealing his lips tightly against the warm flesh. Twin's right hand pressed at the inner junction of D's left hip, thumb a few inches away from where his mouth pursed. The kneeling dhampir curled long fingers from his other hand around his own cock and began to stroke himself.  
  
D began petting Twin's head quickly, running his palm over the smooth curl of his brother's head to avoid tangling it in long locks. He lowered his left hand to curl his index finger into his mouth where he bit down just slightly, casting his gaze between his legs to watch Twin's head bob in his lap. As if sensing that D was watching, Twin began moaning around D's cock, parting his lips just enough to make sloppy, wet sounds as he continued to bob. D slid further forward in the chair, his posture curving into an improper slouch. D bit down harder onto his finger and a single trickle of blood ran down his palm.  
  
"Hrrrmmph?" Lefty grumbled, blinking out of sync as blood dripped across his face. "Wh-what's..." the parasite took a second and glanced down upon recognizing the myriad of wet noises nearby. He was just barely able to see the top of Twin's head in D's lap. His disgruntled shout was muffled as D quickly made a fist.  
  
"Rude," Twin said breathlessly, D's cock resting against his bottom lip. He glanced up at his brother and smirked at the flush across pale cheeks. Twin slid his right hand up D's torso underneath the tight black shirt, and delicately clawed his way back down. As D arched against the sensation Twin parted his lips and let the head of his brother's cock just barely pop into his mouth, rutting almost against his top lip. The dhampir thrust out his tongue once more and curled it around the underside of D's shaft, lapping at it superfluously. This earned him almost a shout from D and it went straight to Twin's cock.  
  
D found sitting still to be a problem and he began shifting against the chair, rolling his hips and trying to remain seated through canting his body towards Twin's vicious mouth. His keen ears picked up on the slick sound of his brother working himself off as he licked at D's cock and the flush across D's cheeks spread down his neck to splatter over his collarbone. D suddenly moved both hands to grip at the seat of the chair, holding himself down as Twin began twirling his tongue relentlessly on the head of D's cock. The hunter let out a stifled shout and curled forward, his hair falling forward to mingle with Twin's.  
  
Twin purred and moaned, eagerly picking up the pace as he pulled sounds from D he was certain no one else was privy to. His own cock throbbed in his hand, spilling thick globs of precum as he worked the shaft at a feverish pace. Each mewl and gasp from above him sent Twin's hand pumping faster, his stomach coiling and every muscle tensing for release. D's low voice seemed to reverberate through his bones and Twin was eager to hear as much of it as possible. He pulled his tongue back into his mouth and took D's cock back between his lips, bobbing and corkscrewing his head desperately.  
  
D's nails dug into the bottom of the chair, curving and cutting deep rivets into the expensive, polished wood. Twin's wandering right hand exposed his pale abdomen to the growing morning light as a stark contrast against his dark clothing--what of it remained. D's breath began to hitch, his pulse quicken and his body tense and twitch. Twin's mouth around his cock was warm and wet, rough against the roof and yielding against the tongue--a variant of sensations enough to drive any soul crazy. D gasped for breath, head thrown back as he shuddered against his brother and came into the confines of Twin's mouth.  
  
Twin's eyes widened just slightly as he felt the cock between his lips jerk and throb, spilling down his throat. The dhampir's eyes then immediately rolled into the back of his head as he pumped himself once, twice more and came himself. His thighs and calves spasmed against one another, shaking him against the floor as his cum spilled down over his delicate looking fingers, dripping onto the floor in excess. He very slowly pulled the length of D out of his mouth, curling the cum on the back of his tongue and swallowing it gratefully in one go. As he released D's cock with a wet pop he planted a single kiss to the red, still weepy head.  
  
D hissed between bared teeth and reached down to grasp the back of Twin's head powerfully. He leaned forward and hoisted his brother up at the same time to crush their lips together. The intimacy did not last long and both dhampir pulled away to catch their breath, tipping their foreheads together. D's eyes slowly opened and he watched as Twin smirked.  
  
"I love you too," the nude hunter sighed, pausing to lick D's lips flirtatiously.


	5. Chapter 5

She snorted into the sand and made a small hole in the process, her wet nose almost covered in the backdraft. The tawny werewolf lifted her head and flicked her ears forward, listening to the heartbeat of the town before her. She could hear so many people, so many lives and so much fear and hatred. Fear made a heart cautious but hate made it heavy. 

The werewolf shifted from all fours up to crouch on her haunches, hands on her thighs. A barely perceptible presence behind her settled onto the sand, slippered feet delicately making an impression. The vampire frowned heavily.

“I told you, darling, it is a horrible place,” the vampire’s voice was soft like a cool breeze, “there is nothing for you here.”

“My people… here,” the werewolf grunted through a long muzzle, these teeth and lips not made for words, “need help.”

“You are going to be able to do very little for them, darling,” the vampire admonished, resting a hand on the beast’s shoulder. “These are vile men who will see only what they want to see. You are a woman and you are black of skin. They will not talk with you, they will do naught but impede your help and one werewolf is not enough to take out a pack.”

“Then… make my own… pack,” Chikar growled low. She swung her head to look up at her caregiver, her mother and savior. The round faced vampire woman offered a wry smile and shook her head.

“You know I will not stop you, but I fear that is the worst course of action my darling,” she reached out and stroked the fur along the side of her daughter’s face. “Would you wish this upon friends? You have lived with this, without choice, your whole life… would you really ask they alter themselves so desperately?”

“To save… life to give… power,” the werewolf closed her eyes as she leaned into the touch, “yes.”

“Then I won’t stop you,” the vampire slowly pulled her hand away, “this is your fight and your decision. I will stay close but I cannot aid you in this,” thin eyes scanned canine pupils. Lady Oji could not risk bringing vampires into this conflict, she could not risk exposing herself and giving away her location. She had more enemies among her own kind than friends, and more children among the humans than she could count. 

Chikar was special and Oji did not deny that she felt more attached to the werewolf than her other children. They all lived their lives well without Oji—they had wives and husbands and children and prospects—but not Chikar. Oji had reared Chikar from infancy and could not teach the girl anything which would aid her in a normal life. Chikar had known vampire culture and old customs and traditions, and the women had struggled to find navigation through lycanthropy together. Werewolves were not altogether kind to the vampires and vice versa. Without Oji, the vampire feared what would happen to her daughter.

“You have… given me life,” Chikar said as she stood, towering over her mother, “now is time… I earn it.”

Lady Oji smiled sadly, tears in the corners of her eyes as she watched a purpose settle over Chikar. The vampire had known the girl was made for great things but this… this was so dangerous. This was not an easy road to travel and would be wrought with pain and sorrow and hard decisions. Oji wished desperately for something else to await Chikar but she knew the girl’s mind was made up.

The duo stood in the sand over-looking the village for as long as Oji could, but the rising sun soon sent them into hiding.


	6. Chapter 6

As was usual D found himself awake well before his twin, the sun was still setting and the sky was a myriad of blues and purples. The dhampir slid himself from the bed carefully so as not to disturb his companion. He was rewarded with a light muttering as Twin rolled over, taking a handful of the blankets with him. He was a mass of brown hair and thick sheets.

D stretched his arms over his head, ivory of bare skin matching with the décor of his temporary room. There was definitely a unique kind of feeling waking up inside versus out. D wasn’t sure he really preferred the former but at least it gave him a chance to try and relax. Which, as he thought about it, might have been why he didn’t like it.

He dressed quietly, taking his time.

“So, what’s your plan?” Lefty yawned. He sucked his lips in as D sat down on the bed to begin putting on his boots.

“To help,” D’s voice was empty as he concentrated on the task at hand.

“Now, don’t do that shit with me!” Lefty snorted. “I know you think it’s funny to watch your twin squirm with three word answers, but not me, nuh uh. You know better you brat. Now answer my question!”

“I did,” D paused to glance at the parasite, “that is my plan at the moment.”

“Wh-wha-what about all that shit about trapping werewolves and knowing when and where they would attack and—“

“All things we’ve done before, nothing new. There’s no use in planning things out before I know more,” D turned his head slightly over his shoulder as he felt his twin shifting.

“I think your benefactor is gonna be pissed when he finds out you’re flying by the seat of your pants, you idiot,” Lefty grumbled, wiggling to flick D off.

“Aww, is somebody still upset about last night?” Twin cooed as he sat up. He clutched the blankets to his chest in mock modesty and moved to rest his chin on D’s shoulder. He pulled a pout at the parasite through his incredibly disheveled hair.

“Don’t start with me, copy cat! This past year has been the longest year of my life and it’s your fault. This party has been nothing but side tracks and disaster since you joined up!” 

D sighed and quickly silenced the parasite by clenching his left hand into a fist. He looked to his twin as the parasite’s voice continued, muffled and unintelligible behind his fingers. The hunter shifted to watch as his brother stretched languidly and cat-like, squinting his facial features in bliss as he did so. D let his eyes wander the mess his brother’s hair had become.

“How… do you always manage to do that in your sleep?” D pried.

“Hmm? Honestly I can’t imagine how you don’t,” twin replied, running a hand to his head and scratching vigorously, “it’s like you don’t move at all.”

“I don’t.”

“He sleeps like the dead,” Lefty groaned as D’s fist relaxed a little. The dhampir leaned down to shift through his bags for a brush. Twin smiled as he watched D duck down but his attention was caught by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Twin chirped, as if he was not seated naked with only a few folds of blankets to cover himself. Both hunters turned as their host, Julian stepped into the room. He was dressed down from last night, a little less gaudy and a little more practical—though he still wore far too much jewelry.

“Good evening! I was just—“ Julian’s voice trailed off as he took in the state of Twin. His cheeks colored and he spun on his heel to put his back to the duo. The dhampir looked at each other curiously and then back to the human.

“Don’t be so modest,” Twin laughed, taking the brush D offered him, “I called you in here so obviously I don’t care.”

“A-ah, right, yes,” Julian’s façade was dropped and it took him far too long to pick it up. He still looked quite ruffled as he turned back around, making sure his eyes landed everywhere but on twin. 

“I suppose I just wasn’t… expecting or-or prepared for—“

“Ignore him,” D moved to stand closer to Julian, arms crossed over his chest, “has something happened?”

“Ah, well no, not exactly,” Julian snuck a glance at Twin as the dhampir began attempting to make sense of his mass of hair. “I just assumed you moved at night, like your prey, and came to fetch you. I did have some duties to attend to but I napped so I’m ready to join.”

“Join us?” Twin barked. “You’ve got to be joking!” D waved for his brother to stop laughing.

“Well, I may not be as tested and true as the two of you, but I know my way around this town. I can get you in and out of places without being seen. I know where important things are, and I suppose more to the point, I know where a body’s just been found.”

Both hunters quickly sobered, turning serious faces to the wealthy human. Twin piled his hair on top of his head and pinned it there to deal with later. He slid out of the bed in the nude, still paying very little attention to their host. Julian caught himself staring for a moment before turning away with a renewed blush on his cheeks.

“How long ago was it discovered?” D pressed to distract the man.

“Perhaps an hour. I have two men down there keeping curious folks back, though honestly there aren’t many of those here. My father is busy so it’s up to me to collect this one. I assumed you’d like to see it for yourselves before it’s been too tampered with.”

“Good, we need all the help we can—“ Lefty’s voice was once more halted as D squeezed a tight fist. Julian glanced curiously at the hunter.

“It’s a good place to start,” D agreed, turning along with Julian to look at Twin as the other hunter laughed. He’d managed to pull on pants but his shirt was still wrapped over his arms, showing off the low hug of his very tight breeches.

“Since when are we investigators?” Twin purred, “we’re hunters. We’re here to kill things, not solve crimes.”

“The two can be one in the same,” D soothed, arms tightly across his chest with one finger tapping. “We cannot rightly kill what we don’t have.”

“Oh I’m not saying we can’t play detective,” Twin paused to pull the shirt over his head, “just that if I get too bored, well, you’ve been warned.”

“What—what does that mean?” Julian whispered, leaning towards D. He received a shake of the other hunter’s head, a dismissive one that did nothing to quell Julian’s unease. 

The human stood quietly, though feeling very out of place, as the hunters finished dressing. He watched with rapt attention as they made sure everything was secure and that all weapons were properly at the ready. There was really very little physically different between them, but at least for the night one wore his hair up. When they spoke and interacted it was very easy to tell them apart, but Julian was in no hurry to embarrass himself. The hunter with his hair up made him a little nervous and he was glad he had a stronger visual clue to guide him.

“We can take our time in the field with the body,” Julian offered to break the silence, “as I said my father is busy and I’m sure he’d appreciate some more time to finish up his current project before we bring him another cadaver.”

“Is his current project--?” D started, attempting a conversation at least. Twin was silently proud of him.

“Ah, no, not this time, not tonight. It’s the son of one of the town’s barons.”

“One of them?” Twin pressed incredulously, giving his sword a few broad swings before sheathing it. “How many barons are here?”

“More than I care to count, honestly. Everyone here worth anything has not only gold but a title to their name. For being secluded and essentially removed from the rest of the world, the fools here do a great job of posturing at each other.”

“Do they,” Twin said in a long coo. He turned his head slowly and nearly bent over at the waist to look very pointedly at Julian’s mass of rings and necklaces. The human reached up a glittering hand to touch the chains at his neck.

“I was born into luxury, it’s not entirely my fault I developed an addiction to the finer things.”

“I’m sure—“ Twin started but was cut off by D lifting a hand rather directly into his face. Twin scowled.

“Now is not the time,” D addressed both of his companions in turn. He nodded to Julian as he set his large hat on his head, noting that his twin kept his discarded.

“Please, lead the way,” D indicated the door with a sweep of his hand, as if this were his home instead of Julian’s and he were the proper host. Julian did not seem taken aback or offended, quite the opposite. D heard Twin snicker as Julian’s cheeks colored once more.

Though Russo was large for such an isolated town, most people traveled exclusively by foot. The dhampir were not concerned but it was unusual, and slow, at the pace of a human. Julian walked with purpose but it was still rather decidedly a stroll—he didn’t want to draw too much attention to them. Of course the two tall, darkly dressed strangers drew a great deal of eyes just by being there. Julian, for his part, almost seemed to enjoy the looks of the town patrons and the whispers shared as the group walked by.

D and Twin both took care to study the humans in the town for it was so unlike most towns they’d been in. The night air seemed constantly stuck between humid and actually raining, it was damp and slightly heavier than it should have been. The buildings were tall and close together, built sturdy but with frequent breaks for visual décor that served very little purpose other than to look fancy. The town smelled like a well trodden dirt path, and the people varied in look from belonging on the dirt path to looking like it was far beneath their station. 

The group passed a small contingent of men and noticed that the two well dressed individuals gave Julian a nod. The two women, however, averted their gaze, and the young black man with them dropped his eyes completely. Twin and D glanced at one another with disdain. The town was overwhelmingly male and white, not due to numbers but power. D counted twice as many women and darker skinned humans as white men, but they moved and walked like second class citizens. Something had clearly happened which instilled within the rich of this town that they were better off than the rest… and it was more and more apparent the longer the trio walked.

“This all needs to change,” Twin growled low to D as they passed another group of curious peoples, “disgusting.”

“I agree, but we can’t simply entice a rebellion,” D kept his head forward, his voice soft, “it would backfire. These people aren’t prepared for it. They’ll need something more than we can offer. The best we can do for them is to put an end to these supernatural killings… and we’ll have to hope they can rise up on their own.”

“Well, that seems stupid,” Twin pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, “I was looking forward to a coupe.”

“And who would you place in charge?”

“Oh, I don’t know! I’d let them work that out themselves!”

“Don’t you think that’s what got them into this mess in the first place? Corrupted leaders taking bribes to continue to keep corrupted people in places of power and vice versa?”

Twin growled like a cornered dog and followed it with a dismissive scoff.

“You’re never any fun.”

“There is a time for fun and this is decidedly not it,” D stated in a way which said the discussion was over. He could practically feel the pout on Twin’s face, bottom lip jutted forward immaturely. 

The scent of death hit the dhampir long before sight of the body. Julian turned them down a path which seemed to lead straight out of the town. It was mostly empty and infrequently used based upon the overgrown nature of the path—where the cobblestone of the street ended weeds had grown up and across the dirt until it was barely visible at all. D knew he and Twin could have found the body easily on their own, but Julian had been right about knowing the town for it seemed very few other people still used this exit.

Ahead of the group Twin could see a small gathering of people near a ditch. Three men and a tall woman, all of dark skin, were chatting quietly with their backs to the town. One of the men was visibly upset, shaking and rubbing at his own arms. Twin could smell a combination of anger and sorrow on him, radiating like heat waves over an open stretch of land. The group looked up as Julian lifted his hand.

“Julian,” one of the men said quietly, “who—“

“These are hunters,” Julian explained as he indicated D and Twin, “I’ve hired them and am putting them up until we can figure out a way to stop this.” Julian frowned down at the ditch as he slowed his approach.

“Hunters?” The woman questioned, turning to give the dhampir a studious once-over. “It’s about time.”

D tipped his hat slightly as Twin took a more proud route and bowed low, arms stretched wide. Upon lowering his hand from the brim of his hat D studied the group of living humans carefully. They were far better dressed than any of the black people they had seen on their walk through Russo. The woman was sharper of feature than the men and carried herself with a confident air that D immediately respected. The men seemed slightly shier around strangers, especially the taller of the two—who clearly had some kind of emotional attachment to the victim based upon his posture and expression.

“Is it someone we know?” Julian said softly to the woman, leading D and Twin closer to the body. The crying man scoffed.

“Does it matter?” He snapped, wiping the back of his hand under his eyes messily.

“Of course not,” Julian’s voice was compassionate, “but if it were someone connected to the work we do I wanted to know immediately. It could mean we’ve been found out; it would mean I need to increase security as soon as possible.”

This seemed to appease the man who nodded and sniffled, turning away as the woman held out her arm for him welcomingly. D and Twin turned to watch as the woman escorted him a few feet away.

“D,” Julian said as he turned and met eyes with both dhampir, “this is Moore, he works for me. He’s one of my most trusted friends.” The smile Julian spared at Moore did not escape Twin.

“I am pleased you’ve agreed to help us,” Moore said sincerely, crouching near the body and motioning for the others to do the same, “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

D, Twin and Julian all moved forward and knelt near the body. D quickly traced the figure with a calculating look, taking stock of injuries he could see plainly and those he could only see thanks to his heritage.

“His name was Lucaster,” Moore said quietly so that the grieving man would not overhear, “and to my knowledge he was a servant. One of the many servants in Russo who are little more than slaves. Paid a wage and given shelter and rest days, but only barely enough to survive. Men here treat stray cats better than they treat us,” Moore’s words were choppy as he snarled around his teeth to voice his thoughts.

“Who did he work for?” Julian asked, emphasizing the word ‘work’ strangely.

“Calithenes,” Moore said with a pointed look at Julian. Twin watched the exchange curiously as D moved to inspect the body closer.

D strategically reached out with his left hand and began gently brushing his fingers over folds of fabric where dirt and bodily fluids had gathered. Twin knew he was conversing silently with Lefty, using the parasite to their advantage. 

“Who is Calithenes?” Twin prompted, noting the way the men responded to the name eagerly. This was a person they knew and had very, very strong feelings for.

“One of the worst of them,” Julian grumbled, “he’s the son of one of the town’s most elite elite. You’ve met him, actually,” Julian glanced to D and then back to Twin, “he was the gentleman D threw the hand at.”

Twin let out a laugh and then quickly covered his mouth as he received a dirty look from the grieving man. He tried to offer an apologetic look but he wasn’t sure it conveyed quite the meaning he intended. Certainly not if the woman’s arched brow was meant for him.

“He’s the richest brat in the town and he knows it,” Moore corresponded with a nod, “he’s been accused of raping one of his mother’s chamber maids on multiple occasions. His excuse is always that he wouldn’t dare,” Moore paused and sneered the next few words dripping from his mouth like venom, “stick it in someone like that.”

“Hmmm, sounds like he needs to be castrated,” Twin mused, meeting Moore’s eyes dangerously.

“Don’t insult the gelded,” D chimed in as he sat back on his haunches slightly, pulling a kerchief from his pocket to rub at his left hand. Twin grinned to himself as he realized D was hiding Lefty while the parasite worked on something, and that meant they’d likely found a clue. After a moment he flicked open his hand and held out a large tuft of amber fur. Julian gasped audibly. 

Moore slammed a fist into the ground, a few drops of mud gathering at his wrist from the action. Twin tilted his head to the side and began searching the ground around them and the body. 

D turned to watch as Twin—almost crawling—moved around the area. He stood and held out the fur for both Julian and Moore to inspect as they moved to their feet as well.

“It’s werewolf fur,” D said confidently, “I can smell it.”

“That’s some nose,” Moore said curiously, giving D a strangely studious look. D did not respond.

“May I?” Julian asked as he reached for the tuft. “It looks remarkably similar to fur I found on that poor woman in the canal about three weeks ago,” he spun the fur between his fingers as he stared at it. 

“Is it just one werewolf then?” Moore leaned over Julian’s shoulder to study the hair. D thought they made a pretty image together, very starkly contrasted: Julian with his shoulder length and curly red hair against Moore and shortly shorn silver hair. Julian’s face was angular and all jaw, while Moore’s round features were signature by naturally pouted lips.

“I doubt it,” D interjected, crossing his arms over his chest, “a lone lycanthrope wouldn’t spare the energy and risk to kill for sport. A loner would kill sparingly and eat as much as possible. These are trophy kills—it’s sport, game. That’s not the action of a lone wolf, that’s a pack competing against each other… or at the very least showing off.”

“Somehow that’s comforting as well as dreadful,” Julian rubbed at his neck as if a noose were looped there.

“It makes little difference in our approach,” D gestured softly with one hand, “hunting one versus hunting a pack is very much the same. It just may take more than one swing or bullet.”

“Quaint.”

“Ah!” Twin’s shout caused all those gathered to startle. He did not seem to be bothered as many of the looks turned dirty. He was on his knees in the mud and seemed unbothered by this fact. He was grinning ear-to-ear and Moore immediately noticed long, abnormally pointed eye teeth. It made his hair stand on end but he said nothing. These were Julian’s friends and he trusted Julian with his life.

“Tracks!” Twin clarified, pointing to a spot in the mud. “It’s just dry enough over here for them to have stuck around. The water was gathered everywhere else and ruined the rest, but these are quite clear,” he paused before singing, “and they aren’t hu~man!”

D frowned as Twin’s calling brought the grieving man and the woman into the fold. He approached the other hunter and held out a hand to help Twin to his feet as the humans all stared at the ground, squinting and tilting their heads in all different directions to try and find the track. After a second where none of them seemed able to do so, D lowered his gaze to locate the mark in question. His eyebrows rose slightly. The track was almost immediately clear to him but it was color more than it was impression, which told him the track was invisible to the naked human eye. 

The dhampir knelt and slowly pulled a fingertip through the muck, drawing a circle around the area. He pointed to a small clump of grass which had remained flattened from the weight of the step. Glancing up he could tell the humans were still more than a little doubtful.

“You two,” Julian said in a voice which suggested his throat had gone suddenly dry, “are very good at your job.”

“Oh I’m still learning,” Twin admitted with a cheerful grin—almost purposefully unaware of the rising tension amidst the humans, “D has been at this for hundreds of years.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You could have told me you were vampires,” Julian hissed in a low voice. He glared across the body of Lucaster as he and D laid he cadaver onto an empty slab in his father’s workshop.

“We aren’t vampires,” D clarified softly, “dhampir.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Julian hissed, hands on his hips in accusation.

“For a man who seems to pride himself on his education, you’re very daft,” Twin chuckled from where he leaned in the doorway, coat and cape shucked off to be cleaned. He didn’t even bother to look up as he continued to pick dirt out from under his nails.

“Pardon me if I don’t know the ins and outs of vampire society,” Julian spat back, closest to angry the duo had seen him yet.

“Our mother was human,” D said in a hushed tone, a little reluctantly. He glanced up and met Julian’s eyes with a strange, deeply ingrained sorrow. He wasn’t sure what Julian managed to translate but the look did calm the human for the time being. The red head let out a huff and rubbed his forehead in fret.

“You’re lucky Moore and his friends believed D was joking with that hundred years remark,” Julian wiggled a finger at Twin, “I’m not sure what kind of hazing you’d have been in for had they pressed and found out the truth.”

“Hazing?” Twin scoffed. “We’re here to help! What does it matter if we’re not mortal?”

“It matters to them,” Julian said plaintively. “They’re persecuted day and night here. Their lives are one injustice after another. They are suspicious of everyone who isn’t well known to them, and they’ve a right to be, and I hardly think they’d be eager to have vamp—what did you call yourselves?”

“Dhampir,” D sighed.

“Thank you—Dhampir in town investigating their comings and goings. It takes a great deal to earn their trust as well it should.”

“Are you going to take this?” Twin grumbled, stepping away from the wall and approaching D as he thrust his hand in Julian’s direction.

“Now is not the time,” D gave his Twin a sharp look.

“Look I won’t press the issue but you have to understand just how different Russo is from the rest of the world.”

“Archaic,” Twin insulted as he began to wander around the room.

“Separated. All we have are stories and old books and even older old wives’ tales about the supernatural out there in the world. All we ever knew about werewolves seems to be coming true before our eyes—we’ve got a reason to be distrustful of vampire and their like… even half-vampire like yourselves.”

“Still doesn’t mean you need to jump to conclusions,” Twin purred, drawing his fingers over a strange looking saw, “it’s rude.”

“It’s all that’s saved the lives of some of these men and women. Sometimes, when you’re the one getting beat, jumping to conclusions is the only way to save your ass.”

“I’ll thank you not to touch that,” a sharp voice echoed from a back hall. The trio near Lucaster’s body turned as an older man stepped into the room, rubbing his hands on the front of his stained and aged apron. His hair was a muted red but he was very clearly a close relative of Julian’s. D assumed it was his father.

Twin stepped away from the bone saw innocently, holding his hands up for a second as he did so. He grinned as he moved to stand next to D, who was not grinning. Julian closed the distance between the trio and put a hand on the older man’s arm.

“Father, these are my guests,” Julian paused and hoped that was efficient as he was not keen on explaining to his father that the men shared a title, were staying in their home, and Julian still had not learned their real names.

“Handsy guests,” Julian’s father quipped, narrowing his eyes at Twin. The dhampir had the good judgement to look a little apologetically put out.

“They’re helping with… things,” Julian said carefully, eyes wandering to land on Lucaster.

“You mean the murders--those things.”

“Y-yes,” Julian frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, various jewelry clanging together musically. 

“And are you going to tell me why strangers from outside Russo are here to help with our internal affairs?” Julian’s father was clearly not pleased. D felt Twin bristle beside him and he reached down to grab the other hunter’s wrist to keep his mouth shut.

“Your son is a kind man, you should be proud,” D offered to dodge the topic. He turned his head as Julian’s father turned to face him.

“I’d rather be a little disappointed with a living son, than proud with a dead one,” the mortician hissed quickly, poking D in the chest. He seemed to hesitate afterwards, tilting his head up to see just how tall D was—imposing with broad shoulders and a large sword attached to his back. The man cleared his throat and rounded on Lucaster’s body instead.

“He looks quite alive to me,” Twin said quickly before D could stop him. It didn’t prevent a glare from the more experienced hunter.

“Who knows how long that will last. Julian’s made a name for himself in Russo—it’s a good name for those who give a damn, but most of the people in charge here don’t. Julian’s a whistle blower, a thorn in their side. It’s going to get him killed,” the old man frowned down at the body, really giving it a look for the first time.

“He was young,” all the air seemed to deflate from the mortician. D could see then through the façade to the origin of Julian’s kind heart and reckless behavior. His father was the same—or at least had been once upon a time—but the years and the burden of a son had drained him.

“They found him out by the compost on the east end, in a ditch,” Julian moved to stand at Lucaster’s head. D and Twin moved to stand at the foot of the table, close enough to watch and participate but far enough back to be out of the way. They watched as Julian tenderly turned Lucaster’s head far to the side. He indicated a string of highly visible teeth marks along Lucaster’s neck.

“The bite came from the back, you can just barely see where the canine teeth missed puncturing in the front,” Julian indicated the slices out of the front of Lucaster’s neck, both very shallow. “The deep punctures along the back and the bruising up near his skull…”

“Seems like he was picked up and thrown, or at least dragged by his neck,” his father finished with a grim nod. 

“We found more fur,” Julian glanced up at D, “and a… and tracks that were not human.” The red head’s eyes moved momentarily to Twin.

“You’re welcome,” Twin huffed.

“And what’s that get us?” Julian’s father pressed, anger returning as he glanced away from Lucaster. “Everyone who knows up from down knows what’s doing the killing; what’s more evidence get us? If it’s who we think it is not even catching them in the act is going to do anything.”

“Unless we catch a werewolf in the act,” Twin offered, shrugging, “then we’ll kill it. I’d say that’s a pretty decent solution.”

Julian’s father whipped around to face Julian. D stiffened as the man reached out and grabbed the front of his son’s shirt.

“They’re hunters, Julian!?” The man bellowed. “You brought hunters to Russo!”

“Honestly what did you think we were?” Twin grumbled.

“Companions,” Julian’s father hissed in a tone which suggested something he found to be unsavory, “not hunters, anything but hunters. Julian should know better.”

Julian’s face was red like a child scolded in front of his friends. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. His father gave him a shake of his head and walked towards a rolling trolley of equipment.

“Julian’s mother was a hunter,” the mortician explained, “a good and kind woman. She tried to make a name for herself out in the world but Julian was a sick baby, we couldn’t travel with her. She kept coming back, like she was shackled to this place. Every time she’d come back the killings would stop, only to start again once she was long gone. Well, somebody must’ve made a mistake because when Julian was ten some werewolf got caught dragging a body out behind the marsh in the south. Julian’s mother went after it…” The man’s voice trailed off, and his grip on a pair of shears tightened. 

D could see the man’s shoulders shiver slightly and expected the tears even before he turned. The dhampir heard his twin make a small noise, apparently he had not been paying enough attention and was caught off-guard. The man pointed his shears at D accusingly. Twin sneered but made no forward movement.

“If it weren’t for fools like you, parading around like heroes, she never would have done it. She wanted to be a teacher, yanno, before she met other hunters—hunters like you. They convinced her she could make all kinds of changes and save all kinds of lives. She believed them… and look what it got her,” the man shook his head. “All they could find of her fit in a shoebox,” he spat.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any weird spelling errors or the like in this chapter. I sliced my finger real good Monday and needed a few sutures so I'm typing with a bum hand! :O

Ozai's fists shook powerfully as he pressed them to either side of his head, rocking back and forth on his knees in the mud. He had been assured that his brother's body would be treated with respect, but he wasn't honestly concerned with that--not anymore. They had taken almost everything from him--both his parents, his wife and now his brother--and his body had nothing left to give except sorrow and rage. He prayed his son would find meaning in life outside Russo. He prayed his son would know freedom, true freedom, but he had no way to give that to the boy. After shouting himself nearly hoarse near where Lucaster had been found, Ozai fell to his knees and wept in frustration and pain.

Chikar was not sure the proper way to approach a human--and one so obviously engrossed in his own emotions--but she knew he was the one she needed. She could smell rage on him but it was not a thick, poisonous thing--it was more like potential. He was a strong man already and she knew her gift would only increase that power. 

"Who do you mourn?" Chikar said, her voice dark like the black smoke at the end of a fire.

Ozai jerked out of his stupor and turned his head. He remained on his knees but his body tensed in preparation to run or fight. He did not recognize the voice nor the woman behind him. She was tall and broad shouldered, clearly grown on physical labor and self-sufficiency. She carried herself like a warrior--like a dancer--aware and sure of her body and where every inch of it was at any given second. Her ebony skin was like shadow, much darker than most people Ozai knew, and it seemed to glitter in the moonlight. Long, dreadlocked hair hung in a single tie down the nape of her neck; painstakingly crafted and maintained. Ozai felt himself almost hypnotized by her golden eyes.

"My brother, Lucaster," Ozai said with a voice as raw and vulnerable as his heart.

"He did not die... expectedly," Chikar took a few more steps to round herself in front of Ozai. She watched with a stoic compassion as the teary-eyed man shook his head. "You know who did it?"

Ozai felt his heart pound powerfully at the woman's words. It was as if it had not been beating before but by some strange magic was beating then. He felt his pulse rush into his hands, into his gut, and he nodded.

"This is not the first time," Chikar said huskily, kneeling down in front of Ozai, "you feel helpless." She reached out and put her hands on Ozai's shoulders. The man reached up immediately and placed his hands over hers, nodding as if the very act of agreeing would end his suffering--and it just might.

"My mother, my father, my w-wife... and now Lucaster," Ozai choked, blinking tears from his eyes, "I can do nothing! I have a son--one son--and if I continued to stand against the men responsible I fear my son will be next. He is only five!"

"Shhh," Chikar said quietly, moving one hand to stroke Ozai's cheek, "the very air around you shivers with pain."

"Help me," Ozai said suddenly, grabbing both of Chikar's wrists, "I know you can. I don't know what you are... but you aren't human. I know you can help me--please..."

Chikar blinked slowly and stood, letting Ozai's hands linger on her wrists as she did so. She felt his fingers tighten desperately, his eyes widen with fear. As he opened his mouth to speak she shook her head.

"I can help you," she admitted slowly, "but you must realize the help I give comes with a price."

"I will pay it!" Ozai nearly shouted, pulling his hands away and clasping them to his chest. "I don't have money and my soul died with my wife, but whatever else I have that you require--I will pay your price!"

"You misunderstand me," Chikar slowly stalked behind Ozai, putting her hand on his shoulder as she did, "I will collect no payment from you. You will pay a higher power--be that yourself or a god, it matters not--and you will pay in flesh, in agony and in near eternity. The power I give you will change you forever. You will no longer be counted among humans: you will never know what it is like to feel as you feel right now again. Your mind will change. Your body will change. Compared to your life span now you will live forever, but not long enough. There is no going back once this choice is made..."

"Not... human," Ozai repeated quietly, nodding to himself. He stared at the ground and let his mind race. He knew the truth of the world and he knew that humans were no longer the apex predators they once thought themselves to be. He knew evil, dark, supernatural things crawled in the darkness and he had seen them with his own eyes in Russo. If he joined their ranks could he really help his people? The idea of so much power at his own beck and call... No one would dare touch his son. 

Ozai slowly lifted his head, his gaze, to the glittering horizon before him. He reached back and squeezed the hand on his shoulder with a single, firm nod.

"Then I will not look back," Ozai signed his fate in poetry, closing his eyes as he felt Chikar moving behind him.

Chikar settled high onto her knees behind the man and let her eyes land on the horizon in kind. She called upon the power sleeping in her blood and brought it to the forefront of her mind like dangling meat before a starved beast. As her world exploded into smells that replaced sights, as colors warped and shifted and her face became distorted and gruesome--she lunged forward and sunk her teeth into Ozai's shoulder. She squeezed her jaws until blood poured from under her lips, streaming down Ozai's back and chest like a tattered flag. She ripped her fangs free of his flesh as they both shouted into the glowing pre-dawn sky.


	9. Chapter 9

"The sun is coming up," Julian said as if his companions were unaware. He leaned on the railing of the porch in the back of his house, dressed only in breeches and a very thin shirt--though as was his norm he had discarded none of his jewelry. Next to him Twin sat, knees pulled up to his chest and wrapped in a blanket as D hung the majority of his dark clothes on a line to dry a few feet away.

"It's not a problem," Twin said tiredly, snuggling deeper into the blanket, "dhampir don't have to worry as much as true vampires."

"Is that so?" Julian whispered curiously, watching D pin Twin's cloak through the smoke of his cigar. D's lean form hesitated, arms stretched over his head, and the dhampir turned to glance over his shoulder at the horizon.

"The sun doesn't bother you at all?"

"Well, it does a little," Twin complained, gesturing within the folds of his wrap.

"It's mostly just an annoyance," D clarified, running his hands along the wet garments, squeezing out the remaining water, "though if we are not careful it can injure us."

"Under very specific circumstances," Twin agreed, "unlike real vampires who can't so much as look at the sun without bursting into flames!"

"They really do that?" Julian stood upright, chewing on the end of his cigar as he looked at Twin. "Just combust?"

"It's slower than I'd like, but yes, they just go up in flames," Twin nodded.

"It's not pleasant," D affirmed, moving to give on last check to the rest of Twin's clothing.

"What's it like... being what you are?" Julian prodded carefully, eyes darting from one to the other.

"I don't mind," Twin chuckled.

"It just is," D was unhelpful as he removed his hat, holding it in his left hand and staring into it like he was looking at an old photograph. "I can't compare it to your existence because I have never lived your existence."

"That's... fair," Julian moved to sit on a step, "you said your mother was human?"

"She was," D glanced over at Julian with woeful brown eyes.

"I suppose we have that in common at least," Twin said, mimicing D's 'compassionate' tone, "none of us have our mothers."

"How old were you when she--" Julian paused and rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm sorry, that's rude."

"You're curious," D said with a gentle shake of his head, "it's natural to be curious."

"I hardly knew her," Twin sighed, "I saw her a few times, perhaps four, heard her voice more often but... I wouldn't be able to remember her face if it wasn't for D's picture."

"You have a picture?" Julian's tone rose with excitement, and he blushed quickly.

D hesitated a moment before walking forward. He reached into his pocket and produced a folded image, lines creased permanently from wear. D opened the picture tenderly, smoothing long fingers over the portrait with great care. Twin moved to his feet--blanket wrapped over his bare shoulders--and leaned over the railing where Julian had been moments before. D hesitated only a second before very cautiously holding the photo out for Julian.

"D..." Julian whispered reverently, putting out his cigar and briskly wiping his hands against his pants before taking the photo. He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he turned the portrait to face him, knowing this was obviously very important to the dhampir. His eyebrows lifted and his heart fluttered as he stared down at the beautiful woman.

"Oh, she was beautiful," Julian found himself staring at the feminine likeness of both twins--her face was rounder and her lips more pronounced but she bore such an amazing resemblance to the twins. Her long, auburn hair was crimped and curled but pulled into a bun at the back of her head much like the one Twin wore currently. Her eyes were long and sleek and stared out at Julian with the same secretive look that D always seemed to wear. Her dress was stylish and extravagant and around her neck hung a large, blue pendant which was unmistakably the same pendant D wore. Julian immediately handed the photo back as he noticed D stretch his fingers out for it's return.

"Thank you," Julian smiled, "you two... look very much like her." 

Twin let a smile split his face and he brought a hand up to touch his own cheek, closing his eyes a little as he leaned into the touch.

"I remember her being so soft, like silk, and she always smelled of honey."

D nodded slightly as he folded the portrait and tucked it back into his pocket. A selection of silence played over the men as the sun began to rise in earnest. Twin and D squinted into the light but seemed to bask momentarily like lizards--letting it wash over them like something long missed and often forgotten. Julian could not imagine life without the sun and its warmth. He turned his head to trail his eyes over the curve of D's neck, then the delicate swoop of Twin's shoulders. He quickly turned to stare at the ground as Twin's eyes moved and caught him staring.

"I'm going to bed," Twin announced, pushing away from the railing, "the sun is nice and all but I crawled around on my hands and knees in the mud for half an hour and I'm exhausted."

"Who's fault is that?" D pressed almost playfully, meeting his twin's eyes. Twin laughed and secured the blanket around his shoulders as he returned to the confines of Julian's father's house.

D made no move to join him, and returned his attention to the pink and orange sky. He turned himself to the side, putting his figure in profile for Julian still seated on the stairs.

"What happened to her?" Julian asked after another moment of silence. He watched as D slowly lowered his gaze and somehow his expression turned sad even though no change seemed to have occurred on his features.

"I wish I could remember," D began in a slow drawl, "but I cannot. There are so many things from my childhood that I have unwillingly been forced to forget and she was one of them. My mind is not entirely human and yet not entirely vampire--not made to withstand so much time. It is only inevitable that certain things will fade, though I long to cherish my memories of her forever... it seems eventually it shall one day be nothing but a picture."

"I don't mean to insult you but--that's a very human thing to say, and feel," Julian shifted slightly as D turned to stare at him, "I was already ten when my mother passed and I have trouble remembering the sound of her voice most days. I'm only thirty three--it's been much longer for you it seems--but my memory is already fading. I don't think that's a vampire trait, I think that's human. I--I think she gave that to you, D, your longing to remember her and your fear that you'll forget. It's tragically, poetically, human." 

D sat down next to Julian thoughtfully, a soft hum of acknowledgement on his lips. The dhampir was comfortable in the silence but he could feel that Julian was not. He could hear the man's heart racing. He could feel half-lidded eyes staring at him unabashed as if he were a work of art. He could feel the heat in Julian's face as his thoughts ran wild. D very slowly turned his eyes to meet Julian's.

"Ask your questions," D prompted, catching Julian incredibly off-guard.

"I don't have--" Julian's voice trailed off as he watched a smile cross D's face. He felt his throat tighten and his breath became hard to catch.

"If--if you were to bite me..."

"You would not be dhampir, you would be vampire and even then a muddled, pathetic creature in their ranks," D's answer was rather sharp.

"Why?"

"Because I was not bitten, I was born. I cannot pass my birth on to you, only part of what I am. The elite vampires would never accept someone so lowly as a human bitten by a dhampir among their ranks. You would be an outcast forever--from every end of the world. No humans, no dhampir and no vampire would take you in. It is not worth considering," D glanced down at his hands.

"But surely there is some benefit? Such a long life... such power. I could do such good in the world without any of the chains I'm bound to now. I need food and a house and I cannot afford to be exiled from my life here as a human, but if I were... more than human--that wouldn't matter. I could fully act against the men holding this town hostage--"

"And in doing so you would become a monster just like they are. Many men with good intentions succumb to power intending to use that power for good and just means: it rarely ever stays that way. Ones sense of justice is warped by time and altered by power, soon you would be an unrecognizable heathen of warped justice--handing out retribution however you saw fit," D gestured lightly and then shook his head. "It is not worth it."

"Does he feel the same way?" Julian jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate Twin.

In a split second Julian realized just how inhuman D was--the dhampir whipped around and his face was inches from Julian's in less than the blink of an eye. Julian was aware of D's close proximity as the wind from his speed gusted across the red head's chest. He had not seen, heard or even had an inkling that the dhampir was moving until it would have been too late. Julian let out a soft noise of surprise and slapped his hands down on the stair on either side of himself to keep from falling over.

"Leave him out of this," D said darkly, "he is like a child, new to everything, and such a proposition would ruin the both of you. He may very well take you up on that offer to the detriment of you both," D paused and if possible his voice lowered even further, "and if he did not kill you I would."

Julian sucked in a breath as D stood and stepped away from the stairs. The red head gasped for a moment like a fish out of water, a hand on his chest. The dhampir paused and tilted his head towards Juilan as the human made a noise.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"That's exactly my point. You do not--you do not understand and you do not know," D met Julian's eyes once more, "be grateful for that."

Julian nodded as D turned and walked towards the small makeshift stable in the back of the yard. The man waited until he felt his heart beating again, until he knew there was breath in his lungs and life in his body, then he stood and walked inside.


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you mean breakfast isn’t ready?” Bellowed the old man, still in his sleeping clothes. His round, red face glared through a thick and uncombed beard at his young daughter in the bedroom doorway.

“I mean just that!” the girl pouted, stomping her foot. “I went down to the dining room like usual and there is no one there! The kitchen is empty and there is no breakfast!” The girl was nearly in hysterics, her long blond hair having been roughly pulled from two braids in her fit. “I’m hungry!”

“This is outrageous!” The man continued, slipping on his shoes and nodding at his daughter. “Let’s go down and see what’s holding them up. You would think they would care about our well-being, after all we pay them and we house them! This is unacceptable!”

The young girl nodded, dutifully following her father as he stomped down the hallway. The floorboards of the old house creaked underneath them as if it was as through with their racism as their intended targets were. Hatred wore down hearts and minds, shamefully it could not wear down old wood and support structures lest all of Russo be in ruins.

The duo poured down the stairs like tar, making as much noise as possible to alert anyone within earshot to their distress. They passed through the empty dining room, the cold and untouched kitchen and the man clicked his tongue loudly against the roof of his mouth. His wife had died years ago and he would not dirty his daughter with such menial tasks—what did his employees expect of him? That /he/ would tend to the chores?

The sun had only just peaked out over the horizon as the man and his daughter tromped through their small yard. Russo had extravagant houses but very little land within the town limits, and the man was glad he did not have to carry on through a massive acreage to set things right. He approached the shoddy, downtrodden and barely insulated guest house where his employees were so graciously permitted to live. He did not even bother to knock.

“What is the meaning of this! All of you lazy sons of—“ the man’s voice trailed off as he stepped into the dark entrance room of the guest house. It was empty. He had fifteen men and women who worked for him and absolutely none of them were there to greet him—and he had given them plenty of notice. He felt breathless at the affront, his chest almost tight with indignation and offense. He threw his hands into the air.

“How do you like that! Ungrateful savages!” He turned to address his daughter—clearly the only sane person in his vicinity—and watched as she met his eyes only to have her gaze slowly peel over his shoulder. Her blue eyes became large, her jaw slack and the color drained from her ruddy cheeks. The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously and balled his hands into fists. 

Ozai stared down his muzzle at his employer as the man tensed and spun on his heel, bringing his fist up to take a swing. The man’s body seemed to lock, freezing in place as if under some kind of magical spell.

“Not what… you expected?” Ozai growled, forcing words from his snarling mouth. He stood easily three feet above his employer, having to duck down to fit into the house yet he still struck an imposing figure. His broad shoulders supported arms thick as tree trunks. Digitigrade paws held him aloft while a thick, whipping tail kept his balance impeccably. 

One swipe was all it took. His four main claws made contact with the stout man’s side, buried deep enough to hit bone. His large paw-palm whacked heavily into the man and sent him flying as if he weighed nothing. Through the assault and the crashing of her father into the dark corner of the entrance room the girl remained frozen in fear. It was not until Ozai slowly turned to look at her that she seemed to remember she could move—it did her little good.

Moore peered around the corner to watch as Ozai dispatched the man and his daughter. Moore winced slightly as Ozai lunged after the girl, knowing her retreat was futile. Large jaws clamped down on the back of the girl’s neck and pulled her bodily into the house. Moore’s stomach lurched as Ozai slammed a hand down onto her chest and audibly crushed her rib cage. A ferocious snarl signaled a chaotic end to the girl as sharp, gigantic teeth ripped open her throat and spilled her blood and flesh to the air.

Moore slowly walked into the back room where the rest of the man’s employees gathered. He frowned as he looked at faces that were a perfect mixture of terrified and excited… and he knew this was not going to end well. 

Ozai had come to them all only hours ago with a new friend and a wild story—but a wild story that many of them knew was true. The woman—who called herself Chikar—said that she was far older than she looked, said that she was one of the first generation of people of color from Russo. Her people had been all but slaughtered by horrible wolf-like beasts that seemed to materialize at night hellbent on eradicating them all. She said they had unknowingly passed that beastial power on to her… and that she in turn had given it to Ozai.

Moore’s mind only provided a negative narrative. Ozai was vulnerable, hurt and had very little left to lose. He was keenly aware that such a mixture was bad one behind such a driving force. He hoped that Ozai’s son would ground the man, but the crazed speeches they had been privy to told him that was not the case.

Moore stepped into the room and lowered himself to sit on a shoddy, moth-infested chair. He covered his face with his hands and tried not to think about all the eyes on him. His head ached and his heart was heavy.

How could he be so against an uprising? How could he not see the potential for freedom? The final push his brothers and sisters needed to win a war they’d been unwittingly fighting for generations? Why could he not see how good this would be, and what good it would do? He felt sick to his stomach, like a traitor to his own kind. Maybe he was just as bad as those that oppressed him.

Moore felt a soft touch on the back of his hand. Looking up he saw Ozai’s son, Zion, smiling at him comfortingly. 

“It’ll be ok, Moore,” the boy affirmed affectionately, “dad’s got the upper hand now.”

Moore smiled for the boy and nodded. He hoped that would be enough.

Ozai wiped his furred paw against his mouth to catch the last dribbles of lives not worthy to continue. He spared the slowly dying—nay, the suffering—old man only one last look before he dropped to all fours and stalked slowly away. His body filled the turns as he moved into the back room to his eagerly awaiting people. He stepped into the masses amidst gasps of horror and jubilation.

“They… are dead,” he huffed, cheeks puffing with exertion, “just like I promised.”

“I-I want the power!” Cried a man in the back, shoving his way forward. “My wife works for a man who beats her and I cannot wait to show the fuck what it’s like to be on the other end for a change!”

Ozai grinned wolfishly. With a murmur of disgust and a grimace of pain he released his body from the hold of the beast. He stood, shuddering with glee and exhaustion before the men and women and his wide-eyed son.

“I will give you all the power; it’s ours by right. We should never have fallen to this—and now we will rise up. We will use this power and make this city a proper, equal place to be!”

“Equal?” Moore parroted, hope springing into his voice. 

“Equal. Do you think me a monster?” He turned his gaze to Moore, “you think I planned to murder every last white man, woman and child in this town?”

“N-..no,” Moore lied carefully.

“You’re just worried because you’re fucking the Tredregar boy,” spat the man who had stepped forward.

“Watch your language,” Moore hissed, putting his hand on Zion’s back, “and I am just worried. This is so much all at once… It seems like it could easily get out of hand.”

“Things in Russo have been way out of hand for too long, Moore,” a woman said with calm defiance.

“I—I know, I just… I don’t want to see…”

“A massacre?” Ozai supplied, spreading his hands out in front of him. “We’re better than that, Moore. Let me pass this power on to you—join me in the ranks—help me lead our people to what we should have always had. Help me right these wrongs!”

Moore frowned as Ozai thrust his hand out, eyes gleaming with some strange brand of righteous fury. The silver haired man looked down, feeling Zion press against his side comfortingly.

“I—I will help you, Ozai, gladly. I will take charge and lead our people and do whatever is asked of me,”

“But?”

“But I will not take this—this power,” Moore felt a little stronger as he met Ozai’s eyes, “I will do anything just not that.”

“So be it,” Ozai said, lowering his hand though his tone was not entirely disappointed. He crouched then, slowly and held out both arms for Zion. He smiled wide.

“Will you be first, Zion?” Ozai felt tears welling in his eyes. “With this power you will never again have to fear for your life. You will never again have to do as someone else tells you. You will be free and you can live a full life of your own desires. It—it will hurt, but the pain is temporary and we are here to help you through it.”

Moore tried to keep his expression unreadable as Ozai addressed his son. His blood churned at the idea of making a child decide something so heavy at such a young age. This was not a curse that could be lifted—this was not a thing that could be undone. He gave the boy a smile as he was looked to for guidance but it fell as Zion stepped towards his father, nodding.

Moore looked away as the crowd roared at Ozai’s retransformation. He knew his people needed this—they needed the power to change Russo for the better, he just wished he knew why it felt like such a bad idea…


	11. Chapter 11

Twin frowned over his shoulder, body bent in a strange way as he stared at his bare back in the long mirror. He slowly pulled his long hair over his shoulder and sighed heavily. His slender, pale build was patterned with scars like the coat of a wild cat. They were raised and ugly, jagged and uneven, long and smooth, short and deep--no two exactly the same--and he could recall how each of them had settled. Dhampir (much like their vampire parents) were not supposed to scar. Injuries seemed to suck into themselves and vanish after a good meal which left dhampir skin soft, smooth and perfect. Not Twin. He turned slowly to profile himself in the mirror and traced a hand up a long, uneven scar up his side. He could feel ribs that never quite healed correctly underneath the tissue, curving out under his arm towards his chest. He'd been injured numerous times since his joining with D but none of those injuries left scars--it took a knowledgeable kind of person to scar a dhampir...

The dhampir was caught completely off-guard by a knock on the door, his body jerking in surprise. Lifting his eyebrows Twin beckoned Julian to enter, cheeks slightly flushed that he'd not heard the human approach.

"I-I hope I'm not interrupting," Julian began, eyes darting to Twin's bare chest and tight breeches before moving away.

"And what exactly would you be interrupting?" Twin chuckled, well aware of the nature of Julian's tongue-tied state around him.

"I just..." Julian rubbed the back of his neck, "wanted to be polite." Julian watched as Twin crossed towards the bed and sat on the edge, grinning widely. It was disconcerting to say the least. "I--Well, I think I've upset D," Julian offered, holding out his hands helplessly.

"Oh?" Twin perked, cocking his head to one side. "What makes you say that?"

"I--pressed when I should have let things drop. He got very close and," Julian didn't necessarily want to say he'd been threatened by D... "he gave me a very... firm warning." 

Julian frowned, eyebrows knitting together as Twin began to laugh. The human dropped his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest, looking away and to the floor. He wasn't sure exactly what he hoped to gain from speaking with Twin but the way he'd left things with D was... weighing on him. It was still early morning but he'd been informed D still had not returned from the makeshift stable.

"That's really very cute," Twin said after calming down, eyes shinning with amusement, "it means he likes you."

"It--It certainly didn't feel that way."

"Well that's just how he is, isn't it?" Twin shrugged. "He's constipated, emotionally, but he wants so badly to be friends with all you mortals. His little humans," Twin scrunched his nose as if talking with a beloved pet, "he just adores you."

"It... felt like a threat," Julian said quietly, "I just... wanted him to know I was sorry. I hadn't meant to upset him."

"Oh I'm sure he knows," Twin waved dismissively and stood. He took a few steps towards Julian and watched the man stiffen slightly, necklaces rustling against one another. 

Julian took in a slow breath to steady himself, lowering his arms from his chest. The dhampir reached out slowly, deliberately, giving him plenty of time to move away. Breathlessly Julian held his ground, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes blinked with a thrill that ran through him as Twin's fingers brushed against his chest and his array of gold.

"Tell me, what's the purpose behind all this... decoration?" Twin pressed, petting the necklaces suggestively, eyelids drooped so that his eyes were guarded with long lashes.

"I--my mother... These belonged to her," Julian licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, "I wear them to-to feel close to her," he took a slow step back as Twin stepped closer, "th-the weight of them... reminds me..." Julian's voice trailed off as Twin leaned dangerously close. This was nothing like D's sudden proximity on the stairs, this was deliberate and almost commanding. Julian's chest thundered under Twin's hand as it splayed over his array of gold. The human's eyes fluttered closed as Twin leaned forward further, brushing their cheeks together.

"What," Twin whispered seductively, lips moving against the human's ear, "did you say to D?"

"I asked him if you would bite me--if I asked you to," Julian said quickly, wondering if he was about to die. He felt suddenly dizzy and light-headed as if all his blood was suddenly rushing to his throat, clambering to be as close to Twin's teeth as possible. Julian almost whimpered as he felt Twin's other hand brush over the human's pursed lips.

"An interesting question," Twin continued, ghosting almost kisses against the side of Julian's jaw, "and what did D say?"

"Th-that he would kill me if you did not," Julian tilted his head back as Twin's hand urged him to by pressing against his chin. He was most certainly going to die.

"How about that," Twin purred, "he does like you." The dhampir tilted his head and slowly licked a line up Julian's throat, feeling the human cant towards him. Twin smirked.


End file.
